


Sherlock and the Minotaur

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Anthropomorphic, Bestiality, Cannibalism (not described), Frottage, Greek Mythology - Freeform, John is Chaotic Neutral, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions maggots, Murder, Mutual Masturbation, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of Theseus and The Minotaur with Sherlock as Theseus and John as the Minotaur. No, he doesn’t kill him. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The [Minotaur](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minotaur) sometimes remembered being loved. He remembered being bounced on his mother’s knee and smiled down upon as she sang him songs and brushed his thick coat of fur with her own pearl-handled brush. The hair was his father’s hair, plucked from the snow white bull* before king Minos of Crete had slain him and sentenced the Minotaur to perpetuity in the labyrinth.

That was long ago. It had been more than a dozen years since he was first locked in the dark, dank maze beneath the castle. He had forgotten what sunlight looked like when it wasn’t muted down ten feet of stone through shafts cut in the outer walls. He had forgotten what rain felt like, though he could smell it frequently enough along with the scent of the sea when the wind blew just right. He had forgotten the taste of fresh foods and wine.

The only time the Minotaur got something _fresh_ was when a human- usually a slave seeking freedom or a criminal- was dropped into the labyrinth via the feeding pit. They were told if they could maneuver their way out then they could have their freedom. They never made it.

At first the Minotaur had tried to reason with them- he was lonely and wanted someone to talk to- but the first one had attacked him with a bit of sharpened bone from an old meal and he had killed him in self defense. Then he had lain there _rotting_ for what felt like ages. The Minotaur had been put off his food from the stench, and had gotten ill from him polluting his waters. In the end he determined he would find another solution the next time. When the next time came he was forced to kill again, but this time he knew what he must do. He devoured the man without a second thought. If they wanted him to be an _animal_ then by Zeus he would be! Then they threw a woman down and the Minotaur hesitated, but in the end she died of exposure and he was loath to put her flesh to waste.

He had forgotten his Mother’s face. He had forgotten his own name. He had forgotten his humanity.

XXX

Prince Sherlock frowned at his father’s line-up of suitors for Princess Mycroft. They were either old or clearly beyond stupid. He was fully aware that inbreeding occurred, but ought they to be so unbearably _obvious_ about it? One could at least avoid breeding with ones own sibling! He’d certainly managed it, not that his elder sister was in any way appealing to him.

However, a lack of sexual attraction to her did not in any way discredit his longing to keep her from marrying someone utterly foul and likely to produce unhealthy offspring. After all, he’d have to have ties with whichever country Mycroft was unlucky enough to be married off to, even if it was just a minor position rather than royalty… and he’d rather his nieces and nephews weren’t born with clubfeet and cleft pallets. The subject of his current problem was sitting quietly to one side, draped in jewels and looking completely unconcerned and disdainful with her long, luxurious auburn curls cascading around her shoulders. She was a brilliant actress; he had to give her that, even if she _was_ still sporting a tum despite losing so much weight.

_Okay, and I_ might _be concerned for her happiness. A bit. Just a tiny bit._

Sherlock sighed and looked over the information his network had gathered for him. King Minos had a son, Androgeus (whose name described him perfectly, but who was at least not horrid) who was quite eligible, as well as a lovely daughter who he had hinted was interested in Sherlock, but King Siger didn’t want to waste time uniting them twice over. He was going to marry Sherlock off to Ariadne and find someone else for Mycroft. Sherlock could care less who he married, but his sister? She was ten times more intelligent than any of these stuttering buffoons! She should have had at least a _small_ say if she had been born male, but as it was her opinions were merely dismissed. As such, Sherlock had determined to find a more tolerable bride-groom for his sister and convince his idiot father to go along with it… then she’d owe him one.

XXX

The first time his shaft had hardened the Minotaur had been afraid. He knew the dead became stiff for a time after passing and feared that a part of his body had died. He had seen that once when a quiet sort of fellow was dropped in the pit. For days the Minotaur hadn’t bothered him, inching close to talk to him. The man had fearfully responded by begging not to be eaten, but eventually an injury on his arm had begun to rot. He’d died a day later. Thankfully, the hardness went away and the Minotaur forgot about it until it happened again a few days later. He had experimented with massaging it to restore life to the limb, and had found that pleasure curled beautifully through his body when he did. Eventually it became a way to pass the time. He would stroke himself until he was tired and then sleep away his miserable, lonely nights. Sometimes he even pretended that someone else was touching him, like that quiet fellow or one of the prettier ladies.

One day when he was doing so a fire seemed to build in his abdomen. At first it frightened him and he left off, but the hardness refused to dissipate so he soon touched himself once more. As before he found the tension building, his body heating, and then a pounding through his veins. To his shock his body arched without his permission and pleasure drew a bellow from his throat. He threw his head back, gouging the wall with one horn, and hot fluids burst forth from him. He stared down, horrified and thinking he’d soiled himself, to find a strange white liquid in the fading light of the day. He ran a finger through it and tasted it, finding it bitter and salty like blood. Pleased, he devoured it all and attempted to wring more from his body, but this time touching himself was decidedly uncomfortable.

XXX

Sherlock set out for Crete with one thought in mind- convince the king that his sister was better suited as an acquisition than Sherlock was. It shouldn’t be too difficult. All he had to do was open his mouth and the man would be loath to have to visit such a surly individual in order to see his beloved daughter. He’d probably have to spend a night in prison, but his father was used to that.

XXX

The problem with discovering the pleasure he could receive, was that he now knew what he was missing. The longing for another human to look at him or touch him with kindness was overwhelming, and now thrown into the mix was a longing for them to stroke his privates as he so often did alone. He wouldn’t even mind doing so to another creature if only he could feel that love he so distantly recalled once more! Yet time and again when he made his intentions known to those who were thrown into his prison they fled him in horror. It became a physical ache until he no longer sought them out. Instead he left them to wander the maze, occasionally scaring them from a distance so they would head to the outer rings and die away from the hole his food was tossed down. He didn’t miss the fresh meat; it tasted of misery to him now.

Then one day, years after the discovery of his only source of enjoyable sensation, someone was thrown down the whole who _didn’t_ run, scream, or try to kill him. He was a man, barely older than the Minotaur himself, with beautiful curly hair and eyes that flashed mysterious colors in the dim light of the drop shaft. He stood up, brushed the detritus from his toga, and scowled over at the Minotaur.

“Well, this is a surprise,” The man stated in a voice deeper than any the Minotaur had heard, “You appear to be intelligent… well, I say intelligent, but what I really mean is that you aren’t just a dumb animal.”

“My mother was human,” The Minotaur replied, his voice cracking from disuse and his tongue thick around the words.

“Obviously,” The man snorted, “The attraction was a curse from a god, no doubt, no other union would have conceived, but who could your mother have been that this secret hasn’t reached outside these walls? Of course! Pasiphae!”

“Pasiphae?” The Minotaur asked, his heart thudding painfully in his chest at the thought he might _know his mother’s name_.

“The queen, of course,” The man stated with a scoff, “Don’t you know that?”

“I’ve been down here for almost as long as I can remember,” The Minotaur replied, “I almost remember her voice and face…”

“I noticed,” The man replied, “You should be a dark colour, but you’re nearly blonde.”

The Minotaur puffed out his chest proudly, “My father was the snow-white bull! My mother had his hair in a brush.”

“Ah yes! The one sent to be sacrificed. I had heard of that. Your father got the crown, but earned Poseidon’s wrath by sacrificing a different bull. I hadn’t heard of his punishment, though. We’ve all been waiting for it with baited breath, but it looks like it occurred… twenty years ago.”

The Minotaur shrugged. He hadn’t known that much himself.

“Right then. Where is the exit?”

The Minotaur stared at him for a moment and then pointed up at the hole the man had fallen from.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock snapped, “This is a labyrinth, not a prison. By its very definition there is to be an exit.”

The Minotaur shrugged.

“Unbelievable,” The man scoffed in disgust, “You’ve been here… approximately twelve years and you haven’t discovered the exit! Do you just sit here and gorge yourself on rotting fruits and vegetables?”

“No!” The Minotaur snapped in a huff, “I know this entire maze from here to each corner! Blind!”

“I doubt it,” He laughed. His laugh was lovely.

“This is the only way in or out,” The Minotaur snapped irritably, “I can walk you through the whole thing if you like.”

“I could manage a stroll,” The man sighed as if he were bored.

The Minotaur pointed to the first of four turns behind him, “We’ll start there.”

XXX

Sherlock smiled to himself as the Minotaur stalked off ahead of him. The naked beast may have had human intelligence, but he was no smarter than the idiot human who had thrown him down here. It was all so ridiculously simple. Trick the Minotaur into showing him the exit. His defeat of the beast inside and mastering of the maze would earn him the right to have Androgeus sent back to his homeland with a large enough bride price that he couldn’t help but win Mycroft’s hand. The idiot king had thrown in a twist, of course. He’d told Sherlock that he could only have _one_ of his children. He likely thought Sherlock would choose Ariadne since he had pretended to woo her, but Sherlock felt nothing for the empty headed girl who was besotted with herself over anyone else anyway.

They walked for hours. In fact they walked for so long they had to break regularly and the Minotaur even took the time to sleep at one point. Sherlock estimated the time at roughly two days from start to end. Sherlock had a spool of thread that had been blessed by the gods (it would never run out) that he was trailing it behind him. They had already stepped over it many times as it crisscrossed intersection after intersection. They even came across the same internal stream, flowing from one end of the maze to another on the southern side, a total of five times. He’d been able to gaze up one end and see his string crossing it at a point further up as they had reached an area that had a shaft of light descending from above. A quick crawl up that shaft with the Minotaur boosting him showed that each shaft was indeed barred at the top, though each location was very carefully positioned to allow optimum light flow down at least one tunnel. They all faced east, west, or south, so that there was dim sunlight somewhere in the maze all day long.

Finally they came to what looked to be an opening with light ahead of them. Sherlock all but held his breath- really it stunk in that foul place- but was horrified to find they were back at the center of the maze. They had come full circle and he was staring across the room at the spot where he’d tied his thread to a large bone and wedged it in between two flagstones.

Furious, Sherlock bolted for one of the other two paths they hadn’t taken; half convinced the Minotaur would attack him at that moment. He hardly went three paces before he encountered an intersection that had a line of thread going through it. Bolting down the opposite passage returned the same results. Sherlock stopped, spinning slowly in pace and replaying the maze in his mind. He had a complete map of it. Every twist and turn. They had covered everything. He’d thought there must be some trick to it- a gradual tilt in the passage that would bring them into an area below the central dump chamber and lead to an exit- but that had not occurred. They had simply wound up where they started.

“You see?” The Minotaur asked, “We’re both trapped here. Do you want to play stones and bones?”

“Stones?” Sherlock asked absently as he knelt down and studied the grimy stones around him.

“It’s a game I made up. It uses stones and bones.”

“An admirable use of your available resources,” Sherlock muttered, and then frowned as his stomach growled angrily.

“That’s why I don’t go to the ends of the maze often,” The Minotaur explained, “There’s only food here.”

“If you can call this rotting slop food,” Sherlock growled, “Only a half-monster would consider this _edible._ ”

The Minotaur narrowed his eyes, “I could always eat _you_ instead. That’s what I used to do with the humans they throw down here.”

Sherlock looked up sharply, “That would be terribly ambitious of you.”

For a moment they glared at each other, trying to stare the other down, before the Minotaur broke away from his stare with a snort of frustration.

“This is stupid,” The Minotaur stated, “You’re here now and you’re going to stay here forever. We might as well get on.”

“I am _not_ staying here forever!” Sherlock shouted, jumping to his feet and pacing the floor while tearing at his hair, “I will go mad! My mind can’t be contained in this sorry excuse for a labyrinth! What maze doesn’t have an exit?!”

“You need to relax,” The Minotaur stated, “You should touch your shaft. That helps me relax.”

Sherlock stopped and stared at him in horror, “Did you just suggest I _masturbate_.”

“I don’t know that word,” The Minotaur replied.

“Touching your shaft- or penis, as is the proper word- until you ejaculate is called masturbating. And it’s a waste of time.”

“What’s eja-eja…”

“Ejaculate. When white fluid comes out of the tip of your penis, usually accompanied by a feeling of pleasure or release.”

“You think _that’s_ a waste of time? It’s easily the best parts of my day.”

“Parts… plural?” Sherlock asked, feeling sick.

“Sure,” The Minotaur shrugged, “Whenever it gets hard I do the masturbate.”

“Do the mastur…” Sherlock paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose in disgust, “Perhaps I _should_ allow you to kill me.”

“Or… or we could… I thought maybe… I could masturbate you?” The Minotaur asked, an anxious look on his face.

“You’ve been here since you were eight, what even made you think that would be an enjoyable activity?” Sherlock asked, curious about his social development in such isolation.

“I just thought… it would be nice to have someone touch me. And if I offered to make you feel good maybe you would hug me or brush my hair.”

Sherlock considered those words for a moment, “I haven’t got a hair brush.”

“Oh, I have!” The Minotaur bolted for one of the tunnels and came back a moment later with a stash of items, “See? This is the brush made from my sire’s hair. This is a comb made from bone, I think… this is for cleaning my teeth…”

Sherlock stared at the stash of items and the container around them. It appeared to be the rib cage of a human formed into a basket of some sort by tying an old toga around it. Some of the items within were ridiculous; smooth or shiny stones, some bones that had been gnawed on until they were mere stubs, a collection of empty pouches, and some coins that he doubtless thought were pretty. However there were also a half dozen jeweled daggers, all small and easily concealed on a person who was desperate to survive the Minotaur. Sherlock picked one up and the Minotaur giggled.

“I found that one inside a human’s butt! Don’t worry, I killed it.”

“What were you doing near his buttocks?” Sherlock asked, dreading the answer.

“I didn’t notice it until after he rotted away. I move the remains to that area I showed you so they don’t make my water gross. Sometimes I go back there to get their bones. I need them to chew on to clean my teeth. Chicken bones break and cut my gums.”

“A tragedy, I’m sure,” Sherlock replied, “Have you a name? I’m tired of calling you ‘the beast’ or ‘the Minotaur’ in my head.”

“I don’t remember,” The Minotaur replied with a shrug, “My mother called me ‘darling’.”

“An entirely unsuitable name. I’ll call you [Ioannis](http://www.pronouncenames.com/pronounce/ioannis)**.”

“Okay. I’ll call you Darling.”

“My name is _Sherlock_ , do struggle through to the end. I despise nicknames… especially _darling.”_

“Sorry,” Ioannis replied, spilling his coin collection into a bag, “Here. You can keep these. I know how you humans love them.”

Sherlock hesitated. He had no use for coins, but apparently the Mino… Ioannis… had seen someone greedily collecting cast-offs and realized they had value. He took the pouch and gave Ioannis a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Will you hug me now?” Ioannis asked.

“I…” Before Sherlock could tell him no the Minotaur had stood up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, pulling him against him tightly.

Despite the compact frame, the creatures deformed legs caused him to have a height advantage. For a moment Sherlock felt a jolt of fear for his person, but the tight muscles didn’t squeeze him tight enough to hurt him. In fact, he held him gently as though fully aware of how delicate Sherlock was in comparison to himself.

_Well of course he is. He’s killed countless humans. He probably knows of as many methods as I do, and squeezing them with his superior strength is just the most simple after gorging them with his horns._

“See?” Ioannis stated, “This is _nice_. It feels good.”

A nudge against his stomach had Sherlock pulling away from him in horror. The creature’s cock was half-hard and the longing in his eyes was a cross between terrifying and pitiful. When Sherlock distanced himself he reached out again, his arms held out like a child wanting to be picked up… a gigantic child half-covered in hair and made of steely muscle and iron bone.

“Yes, lovely,” Sherlock babbled as he backed away, “Perhaps we’ll just take that in small doses, yes? You’ve been away from people for so long we wouldn’t want you overwhelmed by large amounts of sudden contact.”

“Oh… I guess,” Ioannis replied, looking disappointed, “Can I touch your pinit instead?”

Sherlock thought a moment to try to figure out what he meant, “Penis?”

“Yes, that,” Ioannis pointed towards Sherlock’s privates.

“No. Absolutely not. I have no use for my penis aside from eliminating fluids from my body.”

“Will you touch mine?”

Sherlock considered it. On one hand the creature would be complacent and likely sleep for a bit. He’d be able to search the maze, going over each crevice to find a secret exit, without the creature trying to badger him. On the other hand, he’d have to _touch_ the beast… that at least didn’t stink. He had bathed not long ago, as had a disgusted Sherlock, and was still holding his hairbrush his hand.

“I… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you a hand.”

Ioannis’ face lit up and he grasped Sherlock by his arm and dragged him back down the tunnel he had come from. Here was the reason that the creature hadn’t started them down this tunnel. It led to his home. Around a corner that faced east, creating a draft that blew the foul scent of the central chamber away and filled this area with the scent of the sea, was a nest made of discarded togas. He placed his treasure ‘chest’ down beside this and flopped down happily before gesturing for Sherlock to join him with the eagerness of a puppy expecting to play.

Sherlock slowly lowered himself onto his knees, sniffing at the bedding to find it smelled of Minotaur and stone. The creature must wash it regularly during the summer, and Sherlock was lucky to have been tossed down here while it was warm and things were clean. By winter washing oneself and ones bedding would be impossible. It would be a struggle just to stay warm without the Minotaur’s fur covering.

_I’ll have to escape before then. I_ must _find a way._

Sherlock smiled softly, deciding a positive expression was the best choice for this sort of activity, and crawled forward to kneel beside the excited beast. Ioannis was all but panting with desire, his large phallus fully erect and throbbing with need. A glance down at it had Sherlock’s own member stirring in frustration. He so rarely gave into the urge to touch himself, preferring to let his body eliminate excess semen naturally via nocturnal emissions. That didn’t mean he was a stranger to erotic sensation; he had experimented at one point in order to learn the reason why others allowed their bodies to be violated by strangers and partners alike in an effort to achieve orgasm that naturally occurred without such efforts. As such his body was recalling the feel of hands on his most sensitive areas, the tightness of a wet sheath wrapped around his cock bringing him off within a few quick thrusts. Thankfully his position in the court had prevented the ‘subject’ of his experiment from gossiping about his short attempt at sexual intercourse.

Sherlock wrapped his hand around the shaft and watched in amusement as the Minotaur threw his head back and gasped at the sensation. _This won’t take long._

XXX

Ioannis _(I have a name!)_ writhed in pleasure. He’d wanted someone to touch him, but it had never occurred to him that it would feel _better_ than when he touched himself. He couldn’t even open his eyes, despite his longing to see the source of his pleasure. Instead he rolled his hips up into the human’s hands, moaning in pleasure as the heat in his belly built even faster than usual- likely also because he hadn’t touched himself since Sherlock had arrived.

Before very long he was gasping and shouting out an orgasm that left him boneless with satisfaction. He lay there, panting in shock and feeling an odd sort of floating, happy feeling going through his body.

“Oh that was…”

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied.

Ioannis dragged his head up to look at the human, who was wiping his hand off on the bedding. He looked up at Ioannis and the Minotaur leaned forward to pull him into a hug once again.

“Ugh! You’re getting your filth all over…!” Sherlock shouted.

Ioannis released him, embarrassed that he’d forgotten the mess on his belly, but even more excited about the erection he’d felt against his thigh. Sherlock was wiping his fluids off with a bit of fabric and growling angrily. Ioannis wiped himself clean as well, making a mental note to wash the bedding tomorrow.

“I can… I can touch you, too.”

“No. Thank you.”

“You’re stiff. You need to be touched,” Ioannis argued, “If you don’t it will take forever to go away and you’ll be bothered about it.”

“It will go away on its own!” Sherlock snapped at him angrily, standing up and striding away as quickly as possible with his cock throbbing in his under wrap.

Ioannis left him be, not sure if he should follow. The man might want to relieve himself on his own, and judging by his anxiety about masturbating he might be embarrassed about that. Ioannis lay down and stretched, relaxed beyond belief by the pleasure he’d just received. For the first time in years he didn’t need to be exhausted to sleep without crying first.

XXX

Sherlock had worked his way around 1/8th of the maze, combing over every inch of the passages with all of his observational skill. He was exhausted, hungry, frustrated, and starting to lose hope. The clop of hooves on the floor behind him had him scrambling to his feet, turning around sharply despite the dizzy spell it caused. Ioannis came around the bend with something clasped in his hands and dropped to the ground to sit against the wall Sherlock had been examining.

“I brought you some food,” Ioannis stated, “I picked out the freshest things and saved them for you.”

Sherlock sank to the ground and stared at the slop cupped in the Minotaur’s hands. His stomach growled angrily and he sighed and gave in, then he picked up a small bit of vegetation and nibbled on it.

“This is disgusting,” Sherlock complained.

“I’m sorry,” Ioannis replied with a sigh, “There was some meat, but it had maggots in it. I thought you’d…”

Sherlock spat the vegetation out as he gagged miserably, “Tell me you didn’t eat it?!”

“They add flavor.”

“I’m glad you have the head of a bull, because it negates me ever having to _kiss_ you,” Sherlock snarled, standing up and turning to re-examine the wall, “There _has_ to be a way out of here!”

“I could… I could…”

“You could what?” Sherlock asked, turning sharply to study the face of the beast beside him.

He was crying.

“I could throw you. I’m very strong. I run this maze, sometimes on my hands, just out of boredom. I could throw you up the shaft they throw food down. You might get hurt, but you also might get out. I’d catch you if you fell back down, I’m sure of it.”

The creature’s voice cracked, pain lancing his words. Sherlock was suddenly struck by how _alone_ this monster had been. Yet here he was, offering to effectively rescue the only company he had had since he was eight years old. Someone with whom, in comparison to the rest of his life, he had a meaningful relationship with. Sherlock leaned back against the wall again, letting his head fall back.

“I’m exhausted. I need to sleep. I need sustenance. My body is failing me.”

“You’re sick?” Ioannis worried.

“Not sick just… tired and hungry. At the end of my… rope,” Sherlock lifted his head, and gave the Minotaur a stunned gaze, “You… you are _brilliant_.”

“I am? But I can’t even read…”

“You'll never be the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light, you're unbeatable!”

“Oh, thanks, what’s luminous mean?”

“Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others.”

“Stimulate?” Ioannis asked hopefully.

“Yes! Stimulating! Absolutely stimulating! First thing’s first. Brush your teeth,” Sherlock ordered, “Leave that ‘food’ with me. I’ll need to eat _something_ so I’ll just have to force it down. Then I want you to take one end of the thread I spooled out yesterday and I’ll take the other side. I’ll show you how to roll it up properly.”

“Okay, and then can you touch me again?”

“Yes! Yes! I’ll touch you as often as you like if you just _do as I say!_ Teeth! Now!”

“Okay,” Ioannis stood and hurried off, a veritable skip in his cloven feet.

Sherlock took a deep, steadying breath. It had to be the hunger. Or the exhaustion. Or the erection that was persistently returning ever since he’d wanked the Minotaur off. Because there was no way in _hell_ he was attracted to a creature that had just eaten maggot-riddled meat!

_It’s the way he looks at me. As if I’m the only man who exists. As if I’m his entire world. Those eyes shining in the dim corridors while he follows me as if I’m the sun and he a plant starved for light._

Of course, Sherlock _was_ the only man in Ioannis’ life, which probably accounted for the look of abject adoration in his eyes.

_That and the spectacular orgasm I gave him last night._ Sherlock thought with a note of pride, _It’s decidedly easier to pleasure a man. I bet I could make him come twice in a day. Perhaps three times._

Sherlock munched on the least disgusting portions of his food while he thought about the sight of Ioannis in the throws of passion. He’d expected him to snort and moo like an animal, but his noises had been human. His muscles had been spectacular, flexing and gyrating beautifully while Sherlock stroked him into frenzy. All that blonde hair; short on his legs, head, and shoulders, and thick in a nest around his cock and above his hooves. That long mane of hair that curled lightly… it would gleam in the sunlight once he’d lathered him with fine soap- although his natural scent wasn’t unappealing. Perhaps he’d stick to unscented soaps to allow that spicy musk to tease his sinuses…

_There’s that persistent erection again_.

Sherlock sighed in frustration. 221 cm of muscle-bound hormones had managed to plow down his defenses against the lures of sexual desire… with a smile and a shy request for a handjob.

_I’m a fool. A fool with a plan to go home with a Minotaur in tow._   
  


*<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minotaur>

**Ioannis is the Greek version of Ioannis. Pronounced ee-Wah-nees. Or Eee-oh-wahn-ees. <http://www.pronouncenames.com/pronounce/ioannis>

<http://www.behindthename.com/name/ioannis>

  


[CHAPTER 2](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/151528.html)

  



	2. Chapter 2

Ioannis and Sherlock met in the middle, each of them with a ball of thread wound up in their hands that met to form two. Ioannis looked proud of himself when he showed Sherlock that his ball looked identical to his.

“Excellent,” Sherlock smiled, “Now we can…”

“Touch?” Ioannis asked eagerly, “I brushed my teeth. And I bathed. Twice!”

Sherlock had opened his mouth to tell him off, but the look of excitement in his eyes… and cock… had him reconsidering. The creature was all but dancing in place with such longing in eyes that darted over Sherlock’s body with near worship. Others had looked at him in such a way, but none had spoken with him for longer than a few sentences without becoming offended by him. Ioannis had no basis of comparison. He was a blank slate who Sherlock could mould into a perfect mate for himself. His sister would just have to bear the next heir, because Sherlock decided in that moment that he had his soul mate before him.

“Yes. Touch. That sounds… lovely.”

Ioannis took the balls of thread from Sherlock and lead him back towards his nest where he laid him down gently, touching him as if he were glass again. Such tenderness was nearly as foreign to Sherlock as it was to Ioannis and he eagerly accepted it. This time he shimmied out of his clothes, and lay back, smug at the look of worship in the creature’s eyes.

“I… I get to touch you?” Ioannis asked.

“Preferably, yes,” Sherlock grinned, spreading his legs and motioning the creature closer.

He inched closer, minding horns and cloven feet, until his arms above his shoulders and his knees between his legs framed the prince’s body. Sherlock’s breath hitched at the scent that overwhelmed him; musky, spicy, and full bodied, just like the half-man himself. Sherlock reached up and ran his hands over that firm chest, enjoying the shiver of desire that ran through the creature’s body.

“Show me how to touch you?” The creature asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered, then guided the creature’s hand down to his shaft.

Sherlock gasped, back arching against his will as that thick, large hand wrapped around his cock. Calluses chaffed him in all the right ways, but he wanted a bit of moisture to counter them. He pulled that hand back up and licked it, drawing a moan from him, before pushing it back down to his cock. That hand sped up and he was soon panting as his body streaked towards orgasm. Above him the Minotaur whimpered and Sherlock’s eyes flew open to stare up at the creature looking down at him with intense longing. Before he knew what he was doing he’d wrapped his hand around the throbbing cock above him and began to pump it firmly.

Ioannis was crying out with pleasure, his head thrown back as he stroked the shaft of the man below him. He could feel hot breath on his chest and after a moment it was accompanied by a splash of hot fluids as the human came hard with a startled cry. Ioannis moaned, his own pleasure still building, and was thrilled to find the man beneath him still stroking his throbbing member despite being overwhelmed by his own orgasm.

“Sherlock!” Ioannis gasped, hips jerking forward into his grasp.

“Beautiful,” Sherlock breathed, “Come for me, Ioannis.”

That voice was glorious and did things to Ioannis’ body that he hadn’t thought possible. He came with a strangled scream, his seed spraying over the man’s body as he wriggled beneath him, apparently enjoying the feel of his fluids on his body this time. Ioannis watched as he spread it across his torso, giving his lover a heated smirk.

“Mmm, you’re thrilling,” Sherlock purred, “I had no idea pleasure could be so fulfilling.”

“You liked it? I did it right?”

“Perfectly,” Sherlock sighed.

“We haven’t much light left. We should hurry to get you washed up. To get _us_ washed up.”

“Did I get some on you? Good grief!” Sherlock laughed, “I feel giddy. And _tired_.”

“I’ll wet a bit of cloth and bring it to wash you. Sleep,” Ioannis gently petted his cheek, leaning down to hug him gently before standing and slipping away.

Sherlock woke to the feel of something cold and damp, startling awake to find Ioannis gently washing his torso and privates.

“Sleep,” Ioannis whispered, picking up his bone comb and gently running it through his tangled curls. Sherlock fell asleep to the soft petting of the man’s hands, curling up in his arms and feeling as if he had found sanctuary.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“My mother,” Sherlock explained, “Suffered an arranged marriage with the stupidest man she had ever met. He was so dumb that his subjects have fondly named him The King of Vague Looks. It’s also a nod to his dashing good looks. I take after the latter.”

“You are very beautiful,” Ioannis acknowledged, running his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.

“Yes, thank you. Now, my mother was brilliant- I mean beyond genius- but she knew if she bore her husband’s children that she could very well have idiotic offspring. So she prayed to the gods to give her intelligent children. She knew there would be a price, but she had no idea what it was. It turned out it was her health, and she passed away shortly after my sister was born.”

“I’m sorry. I miss my mother, too.”

Sherlock shrugged, “I barely knew her. As brilliant children, we attracted the attention of the goddess Athena. Father had raised us to respect the gods, so when I first met Athena she…”

“You _met_ Athena?”

“Yes. When I first met Athena she was impressed by me. She gave me this thread, and I think… if I’m careful… she might give me some help now.”

“I don’t want you to get sick and die…” Ioannis worried.

“Neither do I, but we can’t stay here forever. I _will_ get sick and die. You can survive on this, but I can’t. My body is weaker than yours.”

“Then I’ll throw you…” Ioannis started, but Sherlock cut him off before the creature could start to weep again.

“We’re going _together_. I do need your help, though. I have a plan.”

“Yes?”

“You are a rare creature, essentially created by the gods themselves. Poseidon caused your birth with his vengeance on your foster father. You have a longing to scent the sea, I’ve _seen_ it in you.”

Ioannis nodded, “It soothes me.”

“Well, we’re going to use our connections to try to get out of this hell hole. I’m going to braid this thread into a rope and we’re going to coil it in the center. Then we’re going to ask for the gods to intervene on our behalf. We will need a sacrifice… Ioannis, I have to ask _you_ to make that sacrifice.”

“What do you need?” Sherlock’s eyes moved towards his horns. For a moment Ioannis’ eyes flickered with worry. Sherlock could see him working it out. _This is how I keep myself safe. They’re a part of me. They’ll hurt coming off._ _Does he hate them_? Then he made peace with it and nodded, “How will we remove them?”

“We will leave that to the gods. They will not allow us to dictate everything to them.”

Sherlock waited until the east wind blew and then knelt beside Ioannis where he was stretched out on the floor beside the coil of rope. He held a knife in his hand that he used to pierce blood from both their hands. He smeared it on the rope and began to pray. Hours passed. What passed for food was tossed down and landed in a heap on Ioannis. He ignored it and Sherlock managed to avoid breaking his concentration. Then he felt movement at his side. A glance down in the near absent light showed the rope slowly rising from the floor. He recalled from when he entered that there was nothing for it to tie to at the top, nothing to catch it on. A purposeful design, no doubt. Yet the rope ascended and when it became still Sherlock stood and grasped it, and tugged sharply.

“It’s ready, Ioannis. Let’s go.”

Ioannis stood and they began to climb in the pitch-black darkness, Ioannis’ sack hanging over his shoulder containing his precious things. Sherlock had insisted the rib cage stay behind despite the fact Ioannis had insisted he liked the human it had belonged to. He’d taken a tooth of his instead. Sherlock had gone first, with the thought that he could rest against Ioannis’ stong shoulders if he had to. More than once he took advantage of that. The hole was twenty feet deep, but Sherlock was tired and weak, his stomach clenching painfully from the filth he’d been forced to put inside his body.

“I’ll be sure to be violently ill for days after this.”

“Don’t die. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I will, however, require you to care for me for a time.”

“I’ll care for you forever if you let me touch you every day.”

“Fair enough, but I suspect you’ll want to touch me a great deal less once I’m defecating on myself.”

Sherlock hauled himself out of the hole with a boost from his future mate below him and sprawled on the ground. Ioannis pulled himself out of the hole and knelt over him.

“You’re hurt?” Ioannis asked in concern.

“No, a bit sick to my stomach and weak,” Sherlock struggled, “I need water. Clean water.”

“Oh, I have been that before. It’s awful. I’ll go back down and…”

“No! Pull the rope up and bring it along. We need to get out of here and…”

Ioannis had been distracted by the doorway and suddenly stood and hurried towards the dim outline that was the entrance of the empty stone hovel prison. He stood there once he had emerged, staring in shock at the world around him.

“Those are… stars? I’d forgotten them,” Ioannis whispered, but Sherlock was too busy staring up at Ioannis as his outline filled the entryway. He still had his horns and that filled Sherlock with a sense of dread.

_What price will the gods exact upon us?_

“You are feeling better?” Ioannis asked when Sherlock joined him a moment later.

“A bit. Take me into the village. I need to visit an apothecary.”

Ioannis turned towards the castle, but Sherlock urged him to go the opposite way.

“That big building is closer, and I recognize it…” Ioannis argued.

“Yes, but the king is there, the one who threw me- us- into that pit. He’ll not be kind. We need to be ready to face him.”

Ioannis agreed and they headed towards the village where Sherlock instructed him to go to the nearest apothecary and calmly broke in. Once inside he took what he needed and left a few coins for the owner.

“Now what do we do?” Ioannis asked, his eyes staring down at Sherlock hopefully after he had downed the medicine he needed for his brutalized stomach. He was feeling better in a few minutes.

“Not that, I’m afraid,” Sherlock chuckled, “A bath first, then we’ll need to get to my ship. They should still be in the harbor. Let’s go, shall we?”

Sherlock shamelessly stole a large cloak from a wash line for Ioannis and picked the pocket of a pickpocket and headed for the nearest [balnea](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thermae). There he dismissed the servants with an order to keep everyone else out, informing them that he had a personal servant to tend to his needs. He locked the doors behind them and guided Ioannis in to his first _proper_ bath in ages.

“You may become dizzy from the heat, so we’ll settle in the [tepidarium](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Roman_bathing) for the most part with only brief stints into the caldarium. I need to sweat the impurities from my body so I’ll bear the heat as long as possible. I also suspect it would be unpleasant for you on account of the large amount of _fur_.”

They started in the coldest room, dunking themselves in water and quickly rinsing the majority of sweat and grime from their bodies. Then they heaved out and headed for the moderate room. There they took a moment to sit and let their bodies acclimate to the new temperature, Ioannis alternating between admiring Sherlock’s naked body and staring at the frescos on the walls. The murals were of all the seasons and he was amazed. Sherlock couldn’t resist so he moved in on Ioannis where he sat on the stone bench framing the walls and spent some time kissing his glorious body while straddling his strong thighs. Ioannis was _ready_ of course, his hands reaching down to pleasure them both, but Sherlock pushed them away with a promise of pleasure to come.

“We’re going to sit in some hot water now- very hot- and I want you to leave if you need to. Once we’re done I’m going to rub you down with oils and massage your upper body. Then I want you to do the same for me, but across my entire body, and then I’m going to show you something absolutely beautiful.”

“Will we touch?” Ioannis asked, his eyes filled with need.

“Yes. Often. Enough to sate you, my beast,” Sherlock growled, “Come with me. Into the heat before I _create_ some with you here.”

Ioannis looked as though he’d rather remain and find out what sort of heat Sherlock could create with him, but allowed himself to be dragged up the steps into the next room where the heat left them breathless. Sherlock sank into a four-person circular tub and Ioannis joined him, gasping at the heat.

“Bad?” Sherlock asked.

“Good. Oh gods, good,” Ioannis sank back, moaning softly as his body was soothed by the luxurious heat, “I feel it inside my _bones_.”

Sherlock smiled softly as Ioannis sank down into the water. His neck was probably a stress point on his body what with those horns, but Sherlock couldn’t let him stay neck-deep in that heat for long. He’d pass out.

As Sherlock had suspected, it wasn’t long before Ioannis scrambled out of the heat and bolted for the cooler areas. Sherlock relaxed a bit longer and then followed him. He found that Ioannis had dunked himself in the colder water and was relaxing in the tepidarium looking at the pictures on the walls and touching the tile work.

“I’ll sooth your muscles in another way, my love,” Sherlock comforted the disappointed pout from his lips.

Sherlock urged him onto a table and told him to enjoy while paying attention to what Sherlock did. Then he poured unscented oil- so he could enjoy the male’s natural sexy scent- onto his hands and began to work it into Ioannis’ neck. The sun had come up in the mean time and was pouring through the high windows. Having him in the light of day was a glorious thing. He could examine every inch of his strong body, especially the muscles shining beneath the oil. The creature undeniably had a bull’s face, but it was narrower and more graceful than a common herd animal. Though the fur across his lower body was a soft blonde, along with the thinner smattering across his chest that pointed down to the thick, curly patch at his crotch, the thin fur at his face was almost white. It reminded Sherlock of butter. His head was covered in thick long curls that descended down his back in golden and grey waves now that Sherlock had managed to untangle it a bit. Like his paternal ancestor, he turned his head by pivoting it. His hands had thicker fingers than the average human, but they were most certainly human shaped. His legs started out human beneath the thick fur before becoming defined as a bull’s legs and ending in hard hooves. These were also polished to a sheen as his horns were, almost appearing vain. _If he paid half that attention to his hair…_ Sherlock thought.

“You’re lucky these aren’t as big as _real_ bull horns,” Sherlock pointed out, stroking along one of them with one finger, “They’re so clean. How do you manage them?”

Sherlock marveled at his differences the same way he took joy in his similarities. He ran his fingers across every birthmark, scar, and dip in his lover’s body. The Minotaur was a moaning mess in seconds as Sherlock worked the stiff muscles that had to struggle to support the bullhorns growing out of Ioannis’ skull.

“I rub them against the walls of my prison… well, I used to. Will I have walls to rub them against in your home?”

“Of course. I’ll build you a thousand walls and tear them down to rebuild them whenever you wear them down.”

“Mmmmmm, hard.”

“I’m not surprised. You are paying attention, yes? I’ll be wanting you to return the favor.”

“Yes… can’t wait to touch you. Want to make you… do that… thing…”

“Ejaculate?”

“Yes.”

“Come is another term for it. Or splurge, release, climax, orgasm…”

The Minotaur whimpered and shifted on the hard bed so Sherlock had him turn over and started in on his chest. The creature’s erection was tempting, but Sherlock had a few better ideas. However he _did_ slick up Ioannis’ cock, causing him to arch up off the massage table with a cry of surprised pleasure. He’d planned on demanding his own massage next, but that touch had been too much for the needy creature. With a growl he grabbed Sherlock by his hips and hefted him up on top of himself. Sherlock found himself straddling the Minotaur’s body while the creature thrust up against his abdomen, grunting in need. Sherlock realized Ioannis needed release _now,_ so he grasped his horns and pressed their bodies together. Ioannis cried out in bliss, his hooves scrabbling against the softstone table as he arched and bucked beneath Sherlock’s body. It didn’t take long. Not with how inexperienced the poor, lonely creature was. He came with an outright roar; his come hot between their bodies.

Sherlock was hard and wanting as well, but he brushed Ioannis’ attempts to touch him aside and urged them both to clean up, scraping their bodies down with tools and scrubbing until they felt deliciously raw. Then they hurried into the caldarium and soaked once more, drinking cool water and occasionally splashing their faces with it to keep from overheating. Ioannis tolerated it for much longer this time before returning to the previous room to relax again. Sherlock joined him soon after with a naughty smirk on his face.

“Now it’s time for you to rub _me_ down with oils and give me a message.”

“Oh! Of course! I’m so sorry. I got distracted by your touch.”

“That’s fine,” Sherlock grinned lasciviously, “You _will_ be making it up to me.”

Sherlock chose scented oil for himself and directed Ioannis on how much to use, reminding him needlessly to be gentle with Sherlock’s far weaker body. The strong creature laid him down on the massage table and stroked him from head to toe, examining his body in the light of the room. Sherlock moaned throatily as Ioannis’ fingers dug into his flesh with the perfect amount of pressure.

XXX

Ioannis marveled at Sherlock’s body, the lithe form so delicate and yet housing such overpowering intellect. It was a heady combination, and one that left the Minotaur hot with longing. He caressed the alabaster skin beneath him, wondering at the near hairlessness of his beloved. The only thick hair was on his head and crotch, though his legs had a healthy smattering that curled when he ran oil-soaked hands over it. Of course, the part that distracted him completely was the soft flesh beneath his arse and along the bottom of those soft globes. He’d never admired a man’s buttocks before, but now he couldn’t stop caressing up and down the same area over and again. Up over those orbs, back down to above his knees, up again while cupping his flesh firmly, grazing his thumbs over those full bollocks this time. Sherlock sucked in a breath and rolled his hips backwards, lifting his arse up and spreading his legs a bit until Ioannis could see his dusky pucker.

“Oh gods, Ioannis!” Sherlock gasped.

“Did I hurt…?”

“Are you hard again?”

“Y-yes?”

“Smear more of that stuff on your cock.”

“My wha-?”

“Your _dick_! _Penis!_ Bloody hell!”

Sherlock’s hand shot out, snatched up some oil from the bowl, and gripped Ioannis’ growing erection. The Minotaur gasped and threw his head back, shivering as pleasure curled through him. Sherlock pumped him to fullness climbing up on his knees as he did so.

“I can’t decide what I want. To bend you over, take hold of your horns, and fuck you fast and hard or… this is by far the largest shaft I’ve ever felt, and that includes my own sword. By the way, when I say ‘sword’ I’m being literal.”

“Mph!” Ioannis tried.

“Perhaps I’ll do both. How long do you think you can last? You came less than three hours ago. An hour? More? Less?”

“Mooooore!” He moaned.

Sherlock chuckled, “I think you need to feel what it’s like inside of someone; I’ve had my chance, you should have yours. The issue is… you really are _alarmingly_ large. What think you? 23 cm?”

Ioannis shrugged. Sherlock leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his to his warm snout, nuzzling it after just to enjoy the velvety texture. His eyes smiled up into Sherlock’s, small crinkles appearing at each edge, and the man found himself pulled deeper into his ever growing love for this strange creature.

“We will take this slowly. Carefully. You must hold yourself still. Will you do as I say?”

“Yes,” He agreed, “I’ll do anything you say.”

“Then lay yourself back down on this slab and I’ll show you the meaning of pleasure.”

Sherlock prepared himself first and then showed Ioannis how to do so as well for future reference… and so he could straddle his thighs and wriggle in pleasure on his fingers while the creature looked up at him in awe with his cock leaking with desire. His thick fingers were also quite an asset compared to Sherlock’s thinner fingers when it came to preparing for anal sex. He found himself wriggling on three thick fingers which were far closer to the thickness of Ioannis’ member than Sherlock’s three fingers were.

“You’re so warm inside,” Ioannis whispered, “Like the hot water we soaked in.”

Sherlock couldn’t speak. Not with Ioannis’ fingers stroking his prostate like that. He arched and fucked himself on the man’s fingers while straddling Ioannis’ thighs and staring down at that hard cock in front of him. It was twitching and leaking. He couldn’t make either of them wait any longer. Finally Sherlock had steeled himself and shifted to straddle the hard member.

“Remember. Lay flat. No thrusting up.”

Ioannis breathed heavily but was obedient as Sherlock carefully lowered himself down, pushing past the first breech with only a soft hiss of pain. He continued to work his way slowly down, ignoring his lover’s soft whimpers of need and growls of desire. He was more than halfway down when he felt utterly full and thought perhaps it was best not to go further. He slid back up and then down again and Ioannis let out a strangled sound and clutched at his thighs.

Sherlock smirked down at his beloved beast and began to ride him with confidence, watching his eyes roll and his head toss. He was immobile, as asked, but his need to thrust up was obvious in every sweat-drenched, tense muscled inch of his body. He was becoming more and more frantic, and Sherlock was getting off as much from the power of holding him still as he was from the thick cock gliding against his p-spot.

“Stroke my cock,” Sherlock ordered with a growl. A shaking hand wrapped around his dick and he threw his head back in pleasure as he went from half-hard to fully hard alarmingly fast. “Yes! Fuck me!”

He’d only been talking, not really paying attention to his own words, but Ioannis _was_ paying attention. The second the words left Sherlock’s lips his hand fled from his cock and he gripped his hips with the strength of the gods. Sherlock’s eyes widened but his protest ended in a shout as the Minotaur thrust up into him with all his strength. The depth wasn’t impossible, it seemed. Only pleasure met that thrust and Sherlock was left with his head thrown back as he gasped in shocked bliss. He was still on his knees while Ioannis thrust into him, growling like the wild thing he was as he took him fast and hard. Sherlock stroked himself in time with his lover’s thrusts until his orgasm caught him up and he cried out as his seed spurted across Ioannis’ body.

He heard himself shouting out, cries of bliss echoing off the walls as he came harder than he ever had in his life. Pleasure overwhelmed him and he writhed on the cock he was impaled on, realizing belatedly that Ioannis was frozen in shock at the feel and sight of Sherlock’s orgasm.

“Oh, oh, beautiful!” Ioannis gasped, “P-please…”

“Yes,” Sherlock gasped, and moaned as his oversensitive body was stroked by that thick cock moving inside of him.

Ioannis was on edge, close to his climax. The feel of Sherlock’s body fluttering and clenching around his cock as he’d come had been overwhelmingly beautiful and stimulating. He’d been so close but he’d had to still to allow the man to enjoy his release. Now he was chasing it down with fervour. He growled in frustration as he hovered on the edge. Above him Sherlock reached up and toyed with one of his nipples while running his other hand through his curls and giving Ioannis a filthy look. The Minotaur’s bollocks drew up and he grunted as he came hard into the hot cavern of his lover’s body. Sherlock moaned and Ioannis groaned as the pleasure lasted for ages and ages before his body finally relaxed on the table.

“You’re so fiery,” Sherlock purred, “You make me feel things I’ve never known of before.”

“This is new to you, too?” Ioannis asked, holding onto Sherlock’s thighs to keep him in place for a little longer.

“Not exactly,” Sherlock replied, “But my previous experiences with sexual partners were… unfulfilling. I thought that’s how it was meant to be. Now I know otherwise. I may have given you pleasure, but you have taught me passion.”

“I’ve taught _you_ something? But you know everything.”

Sherlock chuckled at the look of awe on the Minotaur’s face, then laughingly climbed off of him when he winced and hissed at the clench on his sensitive and softening prick. They cleaned up and rubbed each other down with oil once again before dressing and heading out to face the world.

XXX

Ioannis didn’t understand what had gone wrong. He understood that the boat had left the harbor, and that it had done so with black sails flying, but he didn’t understand why Sherlock was so upset by that. All he knew was that Sherlock needed to be held, so he held him tight in his arms as the man shook.

“What do we do now?”

“Accept that this was the price the gods decided upon,” Sherlock whispered, “We will return to Athens where I will bury my father. My sister is saved her fate and I… I have you as compensation.”

XXX

Sherlock wrote out a letter to his sister and had it sent ahead of him while he made ready to journey back to Athens. He had steal money from a few unsavory characters to manage that, but he wasn’t bothered by the task. When they were finally about to be underway he smuggled Ioannis aboard the vessel. He settled his lover in a crate below deck, making sure he was covered in packing straw and had a horn full of water.

“It’s lucky for me you’re so delightfully complacent and uncaring of your own situation, up to and including self respect,” Sherlock commented after he’d checked in on him.

“What?” Ioannis asked, peering out of a knot hold in the crate.

“Nothing,” Sherlock replied, “Stay cozy, my love, I’ll make sure they don’t jostle you when you’re offloaded. I can’t _wait_ for you to see the gardens!”

XXXXXXXX

His sister and an entourage of mourning subjects met Sherlock at the harbor. Despite his sorrow at seeing his prediction was true, Sherlock was happy to see his sister and to know that she was free from the stricture of her station. There was no way he would send her off to be married; it wasn’t even politically sound since the country would be in turmoil and bringing in a brother-in-law from a country they had poor ties with would be asking for an assassination attempt.

_Not that anyone will ever get passed my beloved,_ Sherlock hid his smirk as he descended to greet his sister with a soft kiss to each cheek. Their pale skin, so rare in these parts, only made them look as if they were deeper in mourning than they were.

“Father jumped from the cliffs when he saw your ship on the horizon with black sails,” Mycroft stated without pre-amble, “I very nearly followed him.”

“Mycroft!” Sherlock exclaimed, “Are you prone to fits of sibling sentimentality now?”

“Your loss would break my heart,” Mycroft stated, “That is what I learned a week ago when I thought you dead. Don’t you dare do that to me again.”

Sherlock’s soft smile slid off, “It was not intentional.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sherlock. Don’t forget, I’m the smarter one.”

“It’s the truth,” Sherlock stated, “I wanted you free, but not at such a cost. I was detained, the details of which I’ll give you later. For now I must see to the offloading of some very precious cargo.”

Sherlock turned sharply and headed back up the ramp to see to his lover’s crate being delivered to their palace.

“Careful with that! Jostle the contents and I’ll have your head! Our wall could use some decoration!” Sherlock shouted.

“You’ve never cared for material wealth,” Mycroft stated as he followed the crate down like a guard rather than a king, “Something has changed about you.”

“Much has changed,” Sherlock replied softly, “Much will continue to change… CAREFUL!”

Sherlock directed the crate to be left in his room with a crowbar and pried it open himself with Mycroft standing beside him.

“What I don’t understand is why you wouldn’t just march your male lover through the front gates?” Mycroft asked, “No one would care so long as I was with child within a year, which can easily be arranged since I already have a lover myself… also male, obviously.”

“He isn’t just male,” Sherlock replied, not shocked Mycroft had deduced quite a bit, “He’s cursed by the gods… or blessed. I haven’t decided yet.”

The crate came free and Ioannis climbed out, blinking at the light. His horns rose above his head, slightly less impressive with straw hanging off of them. He had shucked the cloak before climbing into the crate, so he rose out in all his naked glory. The pale hair that decorated his body also decorated his head, looking like a soft field of grain- more so with bits of nature actually _hanging_ from it. Sherlock smiled up at him as vaulted the side of the crate and landed beside him with a loud thud. Mycroft was doing something Sherlock had _never_ seen before. She was standing there with her mouth hanging open in shock.

“My Sherlock,” Ioannis smiled in greeting, “Where do I water?”

Sherlock snorted and pointed to the chamber, “Excuse me, Mycroft, I don’t think he’s ever seen a chamber pot before.”

Sherlock followed Ioannis into the room he’d indicated and gave him brief instructions on how to use the chamber pot. He left him to it and went to order their bath. Servants filed in to prepare the small family bathhouse while Sherlock went to inform his sister of the events that would be unfolding.

“I am going to be busy for the next few days…”

“We have to visit father’s grave.”

“I will be there.”

“You’ve already missed the 3rd and 9th days!”

“I’ll be there for the [13th and 30th](http://people.opposingviews.com/explaining-mourning-rituals-ancient-greek-funeral-4029.html).”

“The 13th is tomorrow.”

“Really? Damn, that’s inconvenient.”

“Sherlock, do try to be _somewhat_ aware of the fact you’re a king now and not just some spoilt prince!”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there. Now then, obviously I have a Minotaur for a lover.”

“Obviously.”

“I want the gardens facing the sea closed to everyone, even guards. Place a boat to patrol outside the walls, but no one is to so much as glance over those walls.”

“You know that will only increase their curiosity.”

“I know. I’m counting on it.”

“In that case you’ll also want this wing closed off.”

“Precisely.”

“I’ll relay your orders, dear brother, but in the future I suggest you find a _servant_.”

“Why? Is there one smarter than you? Oh, please tell me there is!”

Mycroft rolled her eyes, pivoted on her sandal-shod toes, and flowed from the room like a gossamer strewn tidal wave. Her shrill voice could be heard echoing down the halls in her wake, stirring servants from tasks and re-directing them to her whim. Within an hour it was common knowledge that Sherlock had secreted away a lover and his sister had even seen to it that the rumours contained the information that the lover was of royal descent- _Cretan_ royal descent. It would take no time at all for the rumour to reach King Minos, who couldn’t help but notice that his declared children were present but his wife’s secret bastard child was gone from the very prison that he’d tossed Sherlock into. Once he was certain the man had heard he’d invite the entire royal family of Crete to visit. If Poseidon spared them their crossing after the way they’d treated Ioannis then he’d deal with them when they arrived. He wondered if Queen Pasiphae would be happy to see her son again?

[CHAPTER 3](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/152182.html)


	3. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock and the Minotaur Ch 3

Ioannis was overwhelmed by the garden at first. Stepping out into the wealth of flowers, trees, bushes, grass, sand gardens, rock gardens, and the metal wire aviary near the entrance left him stunned and frozen in place. He stared up at the open sky, blinking in the sunlight, and then retreated back into the shady stone porch.

“Alright?” Sherlock asked, and then prodded again when he didn’t respond, “Are you alright?”

“I’m… It’s so bright. My eyes hurt. Will my eyes burn?”

“No, love,” Sherlock smiled, “Your skin might after so long without sunlight, but you’ll adapt fast. I think you’ll be nice and tan beneath all that pale fur soon enough. You’re so peaky right now.”

“I’m ugly,” Ioannis replied with a shrug. He said it as if he were commenting on his eye color rather than his appearance.

“You are _not_ ugly!” Sherlock snapped, “Don’t ever say that again! You’re different, but you’re _mine_ and nothing I own is _ugly!_ ”

“I’m sorry,” Ioannis flinched, his ears flicking down.

Sherlock sighed. He kept forgetting how emotionally delicate the otherwise powerful creature was. He tugged him close and pulled his head down to rest his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder, stroking his long, curly hair. As he’d suspected it gleamed like the sun now that it had been washed and brushed. It was still thinner than Sherlock liked, but a healthy diet would change that.

“I want you to be happy here,” Sherlock soothed, “This is your home now.”

“I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you,” Ioannis replied softly, his voice rumbling Sherlock’s body.

XXX

It took Ioannis a week to step further than a few feet away from the porch, but once he did he suddenly became wildly excited and rushed around the garden while whooping and laughing. He chased a butterfly, jumping up and trying to catch it and laughing when it flew over the wall. For a moment Sherlock held his breath, worried that Ioannis would realize that he was simply in a prettier prison, but the Minotaur merely waved at the insect and headed off to run through some tall grass. He picked a rough spot on the wall and began to rub his horns against it and then found a large rock to do the same with his hooves.

_He has sunlight and fresh air. He has company and a lover. He has fresh, healthy food and clean water. He has love and attention. I’m teaching him to read. I’m spending time with him every day and all night long. He’s beyond content, he’s happy. Even if he is in a gilded cage._

The next day someone got curious enough to come over the wall. It was a servant, of course, and Sherlock was called in by Mycroft to calm down Ioannis. He had the man pinned down and was snarling and snorting in his face.

“Easy, my love,” Sherlock soothed, “Let him go.”

“You told me I guard these walls. He climbed over them.”

“Yes, and you’ve caught him. Let him go now,” Sherlock replied, stroking his soft ear.

Ioannis released the servant, who had wet himself in terror, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of grain. He curled up on himself, babbling pleas for leniency and sobbing miserably.

“Go wash up and resume your duties,” Sherlock ordered, “Speak of this to no one.”

Which ensured he would.

Which eventually reached King Minos.

Who contacted Sherlock and asked for an audience.

Which resulted in the visit Sherlock had expected.

He sat on his marble throne, an extravagancy in his kingdom but one needed to promote the power of the king, and stared down at the king as he arrived. By his side, out of their chambers for the first time in a month, stood Ioannis. His lover’s hand rested on his wrist and he wore a clean toga rather than go naked as he usually did in their chambers. Behind King Minos was his wife, pale faced and with dark circles beneath her eyes. Clearly she had not slept in a very long time, perhaps only fitfully since it was found that her son had run off with the prince of a kingdom they had poor relations with.

“We must speak in private,” Minos requested.

Sherlock nodded to dismiss the rest of the guards. Minos’ people left as well, though with more hesitation than Sherlock’s people. Sherlock’s guards all but _fled_ once given the chance, the fear of the Minotaur was so intense. The rumours had it that Sherlock had tamed the beast, but that he obeyed _only_ King Sherlock. Only once they were completely alone did Sherlock plaster on a fake smile and speak.

“Good evening, Father. I’m so happy you could visit. I’d have invited you sooner, but we were in mourning over my own father’s death.”

“Did you just call me father?” King Minos asked, his eyes narrowed, “You, who met me to demand I call off the betrothal of my son to your sister? You are no kin of mine! What is that beast doing beside you?”

“You mean your foster son?” Sherlock asked, “He is my lover.”

“You’re having sex with that… that…”

“Gift of the gods? Yes.”

It was then that Queen Pasiphae who stepped forward, her voice shaking with emotion, and spoke at last. Sherlock’s eyes locked on her, but her eyes were all for Ioannis.

“Asterion,” She whispered, “Are you happy here?”

“Asterion?” He asked softly, speaking for the first time since they had arrived. His voice was soft and a bit shaky.

“You don’t remember your name?” Pasiphae sobbed, tears starting down her cheek.

Ioannis’ hand lifted from Sherlock’s wrist and extended to Pasiphae for just a moment, but her husband’s arm slashed out to bar her from going to him. Ioannis’ hand dropped down to his side and then moved to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“My name is Ioannis,” He replied, his voice steady.

“My beloved must stay indoors for the most part. It’s for his safety and the safety of others,” Sherlock stated.

“So you still can’t stop him being violent?” Minos sneared.

Sherlock scoffed, “It isn’t _he_ who is violent. It is _man_ who is violent. Do the bulls attack at whim in the field? No. They are docile beasts until man interferes. Give them room to run and they will be peaceful. Give them reason to charge and they will destroy you. So will my Ioannis. As of now he is my secret lover- not so secret as you have found. No one knows where he came from. No one has to.”

“You intend to blackmail me?!” Minos fumed.

“I intend to create peace between our countries, one that doesn’t involve you waging war and then feeding your prisoners- _our people-_ to a ‘monster’,” Sherlock made air quotes, “You trapped in a dark prison to punish for your own inequity.”

“My inequity!”

“Your failure to sacrifice the white bull Poseidon gave you to acknowledge his influence. That would be the reason for his conception, yes?”

“Yes,” Pasiphae acknowledged, “My eyes were blinded with love for…”

“Shut _up!_ ” Minos shouted, “No one wants to hear of your wicked deed! Except perhaps _him_. After all _he_ lusts for animals as well.”

“Mmm, bit of a difference there, though I think we could definitely call him an animal in bed,” Sherlock smiled.

Ioannis groaned, “My _mother_ is here, Sherlock!”

Sherlock chuckled, “Let’s talk business rather than pleasure. You will withdraw your ships and we will begin a very nice agricultural relationship. I have several goods you may be interested in, starting with our supply of…”

Minos let out a scream of outrage, drew his sword, and flew at Sherlock. Sherlock’s hand flew to his own blade, but before he could react Ioannis charged the man. That hard skull crowned with two sharpened horns, slammed into his torso. He didn’t stop there. He kept going. He plowed the man straight into a pillar. A sickening crunch filled the room and the king slid down with blood dribbling from the corners of his lips. A frothy pink foam was coughed up with his last breaths and Sherlock watched impassively as he slowly suffocated while Pasiphae sobbed over his body.

Ioannis shrank back from the scene of his foster father’s death, his ears down and his eyes wide.

“He… he would have… I couldn’t let him…” Ioannis started to explain.

“Summon the guards, Ioannis,” Sherlock ordered, “Tell them nothing, just bring them here.”

“Yes,” The Minotaur replied, then turned and hurried away with his hard hooves ringing through the chamber.

Sherlock stood slowly and walked across the cool floor to the weeping woman.

“You have a choice, my lady. You can let your husband’s guards attack and watch my guards slaughter them, then leave with a grudge or remain here in prison depending on your own actions, and then maintain a hostile relationship with us starting with your slighted second son. _Or_ … Or you can shout the guards down, return to your home with no further deaths, and begin a trade relationship with the country that contains your _first_ son,” Sherlock heard the guards approaching, “Your call, my lady queen.”

Pasiphae stood slowly, but when the guards burst in and shouted for vengeance her voice rang loud and clear.

“HALT! Do not attack them!”

The guards stopped, their eyes flashing mutinously and their swords still in hand. Sherlock’s guards stood by his side, their swords drawn and their stance strong as they waited for orders.

“Our King is dead. We must take him home,” Pasiphae stated firmly.

“Lady Queen,” One guard spoke up, “ _How_ did the King die?”

“He behaved shamefully,” Pasiphae stated, “So much so that we will not speak of it. The gods have struck him down. Let us put it behind us and look to the future in the form of his son.”

Pasiphae oversaw the covering and removal of her husband’s body back to their vessel before returning to finish negotiations with Sherlock. Ioannis sat by his side this time, perched on a stone stool, with a hand tightly gripping Sherlock’s. Pasiphae bowed and then straightened and held herself with head held high as a woman of her station ought to.

“I can make you no promises, but I will speak to my son on the wisdom of a truce between our countries. Enough blood has been shed.”

Sherlock nodded and then motioned for a servant to hand her a scroll, “This contains a list of tradable resources. We’ll be in contact. My condolences on your loss.”

Pasiphae nodded her acceptance and took the scroll. She paused for a moment, halfway turned, and then turned back.

“May I speak with… Ioannis… alone?”

“That is his decision,” Sherlock replied, glancing aside to his lover.

Ioannis stood slowly, nuzzled Sherlock’s head, and then turned to his mother. He took her arm gently and they walked in silence towards his gardens. Sherlock waited a moment and then quickly followed after them. He found a spot to hide behind a large frond-covered plant and peered at them as Ioannis led her to a bench in front of his little pond. They sat there, watching the fish for a moment, and then Ioannis turned to speak to her, ever the bravest creature Sherlock had known.

“I still have your hairbrush. The one made of my father’s hair.”

“I couldn’t bare to look at it,” She stated softly.

“Do you hate me?”

“No, never!” She looked up in shock, “How could I? You’re my son! I nursed you, held you, rocked you after you woke from a nightmare…”

“Then dropped me down a hole into darkness for so many years…” Ioannis said softly.

“I never wanted that. I just… he gave me no choice.”

“You loved him?”

“I did. He was my husband for so many years,” Her voice cracked, and she blotted at her eyes with a bit of leaf.

“He imprisoned me. He stole light, love, affection, touch, fresh air, safe food, and clean water from me. I can’t be anything but happy for having killed him.”

“I know,” She sobbed.

“Am I still your son?”

“Yes. Yes, if you’ll have me as your mother.”

He turned to face her and they hesitated a moment before Ioannis drew her in for a tight hug. He hesitated a moment longer and then stroked her dark, curly hair. Sherlock smiled to himself and slipped away.

XXX

Ioannis walked for a while in the garden with his mother. She was so different from what he vaguely remembered. Her eyes weren’t as big, her hair not as shiny, her hands not as strong, and her arms as thin as twigs. He helped her over a log and showed her the little nest he had beneath a low hanging tree. Inside were a few precious items he’d brought with him from his prison, though the hairbrush was in his rooms by his bed.

“I like to hide them,” He explained to her, “Sherlock knows, I’m sure, but it’s just something I like to do. That way I don’t feel like he has everything of mine. He can have my heart, but something has to be mine.”

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me like I’m precious to him.”

“Is he precious to you?”

“More than my hairbrush,” Ioannis nodded solemnly, “The only thing more precious to me is the smell of the sea.”

“Can you see it from here?”

“Not yet. He promised to take me there. He says they’re building a staircase from the beach to my wall and then they’ll put a doorway in. It will be my own beach.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Only if he shares it with me.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“Sometimes he gets busy being a king and I don’t see him as much as I like. His sister keeps me company, too, but she isn’t as good company. He’s working on finding some servants who won’t fear me that can be my friends. Mycroft suggested a guard named Trad. Les Trad. I think he’s her lover. He has nice hair. It looks like a goat’s hair.”

They talked until the sun set and then she pressed a kiss to his nose and left him with a sadness filling her eyes. She had other children across the sea, children he’d never met before and likely never would. He didn’t want to meet them. They had everything that had been snatched away from him when her husband had decided he could no longer tolerate her bastard son. Now he had something different. He had Sherlock. Sherlock and his pretty prison. He had no doubt he would live out his life here. Sherlock was right. Humans couldn’t tolerate him. He wasn’t safe outside the walls of his garden and the wing of the palace that he now called his home. Let the legend of the cannibal Minotaur terrify the land, he would sit in his garden until the day he died reading stories, sculpting pottery, painting the pottery he sculpted, and singing with the birds. And making love to Sherlock. There was that, as well. His precious lover whose eyes alone- the color of the sea- made his confinement seem like freedom.

XXX

“Sherlock?” Mycroft called, tapping at the door that blocked her way. It took a bit to get his attention, but she doubted he’d been sleeping.

“What is it, sister?” Sherlock sighed, leaning on the doorframe.

“I wanted to let you know that I am four weeks pregnant.”

“That was fast.”

“I had no reason to delay, your very kingdom rests on my conception.”

“I’ll make sure to announce your delicate condition tomorrow during the morning State meeting. Will you marry?”

“I rather like him panting at my heels so… no. Let him worship me at my feet for the rest of our lives.”

“He’s twice your age.”

“He’s twice the man of any prince I’ve met.”

“I only meant he might want to settle down and have a proper family.”

“He is a soldier first and my lover second,” Mycroft smiled softly, “If I took that from him it would take away the part of him I love. Let him march beneath my window every night knowing he guards my virtue from all but himself. It brings him joy and his joy brings me happiness.”

“And a child, apparently.”

“Apparently so.”

“Will you marry at all?”

“Perhaps… if the right woman comes along.”

Mycroft winked and slipped away into the dark halls, her brother’s chuckle sounding after her before the door separated them once more.


End file.
